


Knife and Command

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: The Chronicles of Riddick (2004), The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Praise, Rough Sex, Slight knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 02:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: He trusts Riddick. His Lord Marshal. His breeder who is turning everything upside down and right side up. Most would distrust an ex-convict. Would hear about Riddick’s past deeds and run. Cowards. Vaako trusts Riddick. And by the absence of the Hellhounds, except for Kore who is perched high in the specially built cat tower, Riddick trusts him. Trusts him when everything else in his life before tells him not to.





	Knife and Command

**Author's Note:**

> Day Three Knifeplay

Vaako wakes slowly, a leisurely experience that not many Necromongers get to experience. He wakes to the feel of Riddick’s mouth on his dick and hands on his legs holding him down.

“Riddick?”

His Lord Marshal hums a note, signaling that he heard Vaako. He doesn’t pull off, not at first but when he does it’s with a full graze of teeth. Scrapping and nipping. Riddick tilts his head, shined eyes drinking him in. Like a predator, a wolf. It makes Vaako tense, shoulders tightening. 

“Riddick? Is something wrong?”

“Do you trust me?”

Vaako blinks, the only sign of his confusion. Trust? The word feels foreign in his mind, strange even. He hasn’t trusted anyone in a  _ long _ time. Trust was forgotten when he stepped out of his first Purification. Trust was eliminated the first night that Zhylaw showed his… “appreciation” of Vaako’s skills. Trust is dangerous. Trust people and you get stabbed in the back. Trust people and you’re sold to slavers who die fiery deaths before their due time. Faith. Faith in the cause, in his religion, is as close to trusting as he comes most days. But here, laying naked on Riddick’s bed?

“Yes.”

He trusts Riddick. His Lord Marshal.  _ His _ breeder who is turning everything upside down and right side up. Most would distrust an ex-convict. Would hear about Riddick’s past deeds and run. Cowards. Vaako trusts Riddick. And by the absence of the Hellhounds, except for Kore who is perched high in the specially built cat tower, Riddick trusts him. Trusts him when everything else in his life before tells him not to.

“I trust  _ you _ , Riddick.”

This pleases his Lord Marshal, which sends a jolt of pleasure down Vaako’s spine. He watches as Riddick pulls out a knife. Not one that is to be used for sparring. Not one to be used in self-defense. It glistens and gleams in the artificial light of the room.  _ Don’t ask.  _ The thought is shouted in his mind.  _ Don’t ask if it’s okay. Don’t ask me to be good. _ The ghost that haunts Vaako’s mind hasn’t been as loud. As there. Not since their talk. Not since Riddick had place reverent kisses to scars. Kore grumbles from her perch and is ignored by both men. Riddick leans in, the hand not holding the knife grabbing onto Vaako’s hair. Tugging on it before Riddick mashes their lips together.

“You let me know if it gets to be too much,” he growls when they part..

That growl, full of strength, of lust, has Vaako yanking Riddick back down for another kiss. Open-mouthed and messy. They pull apart.

“I mean it, Beautiful. Kore better not be the one to tell me you’re slipping away.”

“As you command.”

He was going to tack on ‘my Lord’ but Riddick cuts him off. He dips his head down and bites down on Vaako’s collar bone. It hurts. So good. Eyes squished shuts savoring that sting he misses Riddick pulling back. He doesn’t miss the first gentle run of the knife down his ribs. Tickling and barely there.

“I’m not glass,” he hisses.

The next cut is deeper. Down the other side. Riddick is over him, shined eyes drinking him in. The knife makes another pass down scraping his pec and rising up at his naval. Vaako’s eyes flutter closed.

“Tell me what you want. Command me, Vaako, like I’m one of you soldiers,” Riddick rumbles. He feels the blade paused in between the two halves of his rib cage. Neither digging nor cutting. Simply resting.

“Do you want me to scar up your chest? Slice it until such pretty red slides down your chest? Want me to carve my name into your stomach? It’d be hard, fitting all on there, but for you, I’d do it.”

The fact that his Lord Marshal’s voice catches with want, with need? It boosts his ego. Prideful, Vaako reaches up, hand wrapping around Riddick’s, drags it up. The sting causes his dick to twitch. Up to his nipple, he leads the blade, presses it down sideways. If Riddick jerks his hand he’ll lose the nipple but as is? As is, Vaako gets the pressure, the bite he desires with the thrill of danger.

“One day, I’ll let you mark me,” he manages to say, pressing the words out of his throat. There is a sound; one that reminds Vaako of the Hellhounds. Low, dangerous, and so fucking rumbly that it vibrates through him. 

Without warning the knife is buried in the pillow beside his head. Another sign of trust that neither of them acknowledges. Lips are on his own. Teeth slicing his into them. Riddick has his legs resting on strong shoulders before he can blink. 

“Fuck!” he cries out as Riddick buries himself into Vaako in one swift movement. There was little prep, just enough to keep moves like that from absolutely tearing him apart. He moans loudly, hands clawing and scratching at sheets. 

“So fucking good, Beautiful. Can’t be saying shit like that.”

“Harder.”

It’s not what others would have said in response to that. Maybe they would have said something challenging. Maybe they would have asked questions. Not Vaako. He knows what he wants. With a grunt, he flips them. Gasping out Riddick’s name as he settles.

“Cut me some more,” he demands. His hands are perched on Riddick’s chest, nails digging into soft flesh. He can’t learn his limits if he doesn’t test them. Riddick places one hand on his hip and the other searches out the knife. The first cut on his thigh is an accident, barely a nick. He growls at Riddick, challenges him. The next one is purposeful and long. Vaako moans low, hips stuttering. The next cut combined with a particularly strong thrust that his prostate has him coming hard. 

He bounces a few more times, clawing down on Riddick’s chest.

“Come for me, my Lord,” he breathes out. The knife has been dropped and both hands are on his hips. With a whine, he feels Riddick still underneath him.

“You still with me?” he asks, stealing Riddick’s own words and whispering them into the breeder’s ears.

“Always, Beautiful.”

“Good. Because I do not want to train a new Lord Marshal.”

Kore lets out a huff that sounds like a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

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